


Black Cat Crossed my Pathway

by Lyra_Kero



Series: Put a Spell on You [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, It's part of the ritual thing, Keith is a familiar, Kid Fic, Lance is a witch, M/M, but you know, i think it's fluffy, it's there, kind of fluffy?, they little babs, uh.... blood? A little?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 23:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_Kero/pseuds/Lyra_Kero
Summary: "Wow.""What?" the black haired boy asked, his ears lowering slightly."I like your eyes." the tanned boy said, smiling brightly, his cheeks dimpling.-------Lance is five and is excited to finally get his familiar! Unfortunately, Keith isn't what he expects.





	Black Cat Crossed my Pathway

**Author's Note:**

> I actually didn't plan to make more of this series AU thing, but when you work at a god forsaken sub shop your mind kind of wanders and.. -gestures-  
> Maybe I'll write more, who knows.
> 
>  
> 
> Title is taken from Zombie Dance by Alice Cooper

Little Alejándro "Lance" Hernández-McClain was five when his family told him the special news: he was now old enough to get his familiar. What was even more exciting was that he got to stay up really late! All the way up to midnight! He smiled and danced with his family, everyone telling stories around the bonfire and roasting marshmallows. Lance couldn't wait to stay up so late! It was going to be so much fun! He sat with his mother, talking excitedly about all the things he wanted to do while he was awake.

Lance passed out around nine that night, curled up in his mother's lap. He was, however, woken up a few minutes before it was time and gently coaxed into the circle that had been drawn on the ground with runes and herbs, a small wooden bowl in the middle. He looked over his shoulder, seeing his mother smile to him, giving him an encouraging nod, before he took a deep breath and looked back ahead to the tall, hooded and masked figure before him. The figure knelt down in front of Lance, holding out a hand, which the young boy took after a moment of hesitation. He felt a thrum go through his body and shuddered, feeling his legs shake, though the figure's grip was strong enough to keep him from falling down. He became aware of a voice, words muffled as an incantation was spoken. The runes around him began to light up and he closed his eyes tightly, holding tightly to the figure's hand.

Soon he felt his arm being moved and a new hand took his own, a smaller hand than before, warmer. Lance hesitantly opened an eye, peeking out. The bright, harsh light had dimmed, faded back into the orange of the bonfire from before. In front of him stood a boy probably around his age, slightly taller than him. His skin was light and unblemished (not like Lance's freckled skin), and his hair was shaggy and black. But it was his eyes that made Lance stare; they were a gorgeous shade of purple, and purple was his favorite color! He was so entranced by the boy's eyes he failed to notice that the kid had a pair of cat ears perched atop his head, or that there was a matching tail moving behind him.  
"Wow."  
"What?" the black haired boy asked, his ears lowering slightly.  
"I like your eyes." the tanned boy said, smiling brightly, his cheeks dimpling. "My name's Lance!"  
"Lance?" the other boy tilted his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together.  
"Yep!" he gently squeezed the boy's hand, "That's me! What's your name?"  
"Uh..." the boy looked down to their joined hands, his tail lowering slightly, "Keith."  
"That's a weird name." Lance said, causing Keith to huff.  
"You're weird." he shot back, his fur bristling. The other boy frowned, opening his mouth for a retort -- a really good one too: _I know you are but what am I?_ \-- but he soon became aware the masked figure had approached, gently holding out a hand to the two boys' hands. The brunet began to reach out, but stopped when he caught the glint in the figure's other hand. A knife.  
A scary one at that.

Lance couldn't help the terrified whimper as he froze, his grip tightening on Keith's hand and shied away. His gaze flickered around before settling on his mother. Her eyes were as gentle as her smile, silently sending a soothing presence to her son. He bit his lip, his hand shaking, until Keith's hand tightened. Looking to the other boy, he took note of Keith's ears lowered. Was he afraid too? Or was he just worried about Lance? He'd never had a cat before.

Taking a breath, he pulled his hand from the taller boy's, hesitantly holding it up to the masked figure. He closed his eyes when he saw the knife move and whimpered as the cut was made into his palm. He tried, he really did, but he began to cry from the pain, somehow managing to keep his sobs down to a minimum. He opened his eyes, watching as the dark haired boy winced when his own palm was cut, before their hands were pressed together once more. Lance felt both his own and his new familiar's blood between their hands, and the figure pressed their hands tighter, causing blood to trickle down their arms and drip into the bowl below them.  
There were a few words, but Lance couldn't concentrate on them. He was too focused on the feeling of his wound, the pulsing he felt in his palm. He sniffed, his free hand curling into his shirt tightly as he watched the figure pick up the bowl and swirl it around. He faintly began to hear what sounded like a marble moving inside, before the bowl was lowered in offering to the young boy. Inside was a small stone, and when Lance took it out, he saw the swirls of red inside, moving like they were in water. Even being as young as he was, he could feel the magic inside of it.  
"Keep this," the figure said quietly, "it will bind you to your familiar."

 

And that was it. Lance was surrounded by his family once he held the marble, keeping it held tightly in his hand, his other continuing to hold onto his familiar's.  
"Chiquito," his mother's voice spoke out as she knelt beside the two boys, holding their cut hands. "what's your familiar's name?"  
"His name?" the blue eyed boy blinked, before turning to the boy, who had fallen quiet since the ceremony. "Can I call him Kitty?" the boy tensed, puffing out his cheeks.  
"I don't want to be called that!" he said, his eyes narrowing.  
"You're my familiar, though!" Lance said, "I can call you whatever I want, right?"  
"I already have a name!" the boy pressed, his tail twitching in irritation. "It's Keith!"  
The brunet frowned, "That's a dumb name, though."  
"You're dumb!"  
"Am not!" Lance said, his nose wrinkling, before he looked to his mother. "Mama, I want a new familiar! This one's broken and I don't like him!"

His mother smiled, laughing softly, "Keith is your familiar, chiquito." she said gently, patting his hand. Lance noticed that his palm wasn't hurting anymore, and upon looking he saw that his mother had healed his and Keith's hands, "It will take time to adjust, but you two will be good friends." She moved her hand, petting the small, white mink that laid curled around her shoulders. It raised it's head before yawning and laying back down. Lance liked his mother's familiar. Lance didn't like Keith.  
He turned to tell Keith just that but stopped, not seeing the boy. He looked around, frowning before he lowered his gaze and saw a small black kitten curled up at his feet. He heard his mother laugh quietly, "Looks like Keith is just as tired as you." she said. "Put your bloodstone in your pocket, Lance, and we'll go home. I'll make you a pretty necklace so you can keep it close in the morning."  
Lance frowned, looking down to the object in his hand, holding it up to watch as the red moved and waved inside. A bloodstone. His and Keith's blood was inside, joining them together as witch and familiar. He lowered his gaze back down to the kitten, suddenly aware of how tired he was as well. He didn't remember pocketing his stone as his mother had told him, nor did he remember picking up the tiny kitten, cradling Keith close. He just knew that one minute he'd been at the ceremony grounds, hearing the crackle of the bonfire and the next he was waking up in his bed, snuggled under his blankets, a hand gently resting on a sleeping kitten's side.


End file.
